Hell of a Guy
Do, or do not. There is no 'try'. - Yoda

Sunday, May 07, 2006

Dealing With My Diminishing Capacity

05/07/2006

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About a month and a half ago, while diligently working in my office and laboriously banging away with my index fingers on the keys of my laptop, I had, for what seemed an incalculable amount of time, a bout of double vision.  It may have lasted for just thirty seconds, for all I know, but it seemed an eternity.  I was seeing two images of everything – high on the left side and low on the right side.  Had I been imbibing in my favorite brewed beverage and had this, I might have passed it off as effects of the libation and taken a cab home, but this was mid-morning, about 11am, and I assure you there had been nothing more ingested than a few cups of coffee and a couple of bottles of water.  Well, as you might imagine, I was very concerned.

My brother Bob had sent me an e-mail recently noting symptoms consistent with a stroke, and one of them is seeing double.  Well, I just knew that was what was occurring. My former bride is laughing.  She accused me many times of hypochondria.  She knows I thought the worst, and I did.  But I did something about it and I pat myself on the back for it.  I called my doctor’s office and made an appointment.

After a visit with Dr. Paul and really getting into what had happened and when (the facts and not my interpretation of them), we decided it might be best to pursue a complete examination of the issue.  That meant I got to get an MRI of my brain.  I told the MRI technician the test, when she asked me the reason for having it done, was ordered as a result of a bet my wife had with the doctor, and that was whether or not I have a brain at all – Nancy bet no, and the doctor bet I did have at least a small one.  Dr. Paul won the bet.  There is now irrefutable evidence of a cerebellum and a medulla oblongata, and some other brain stuff within my cranial cavity.  I have the films to prove it.  The brain scan came back with the results being normal but with a note that there is some mild “Cerebral Atrophy.”

I asked myself, “What the hell does that mean?” Being the wise and sagacious man that I am I almost immediately, having received this news while seated in front of this damn contraption of a laptop and with all this technology at my finger tips, did a quick Google search on “Cerebral Atrophy.” Mistake in progress!!!  Guess what pops up?  Cerebral atrophy is a symptom of Alzheimer’s disease.  Well, you know exactly where my mind went…sheer panic overtook me for about three seconds (that’s my maximum allowed time limit in sheer panic mode).  I began to assess and attempt to put a spin on what I had read.  Not being the smartest man on the planet, I gave up in a few minutes and decided to wait on the expert’s evaluation of the test results.  An appointment was made to see a specialist, a neurologist. I would get the straight skinny from Dr. Karoly Varga.

Here’s the kicker.  My mother suffered from the insidious affects of dementia, though I do not believe it was ever medically diagnosed as a particular type.  I don’t recall her calling me by my name for the last five years of her tormented life.  The very odd part of her condition was that not only did she suffer with it, but so did her mother and three sisters, the last surviving members of her immediate family.  Though all five lived well into their eighties, all five spent the last remaining years of their lives confused and befuddled. 

Now, you know this is the first thought that crossed mind when I saw double vision listed as a symptom of Alzheimer’s disease on Google.  I have told Nancy for years, she being nine years younger than I, that my purpose in marrying a younger woman was so that I would have someone to attend to my bodily function messes when I go bonkers.  This said in jest, of course, but with a smidgen of apprehension.  I ain’t got no crystal ball here!  I don’t have a clue what the future holds for me, but the dementia history is there, and is undeniably a concern for my siblings and me.  By the way, Nancy said she will gladly wipe my butt when I no longer am able if that situation eventuates.  What a girl!!! 

Well, the good news is that Dr. Varga, who sounds a lot like Wolfgang Puck, removed 99.99% of any doubt that I had a mild stroke or any loss of brain tissue that would indicate the onset of dementia in any form, other than I may be mildly stupid.  He told me cerebral atrophy occurs as a consequence of aging, much like facial wrinkles.  I left his offices with a spring in my giddy-up.  I get to go on smelling the daisies for a while longer.

I think the part of my brain that has melted into oblivion is the part that allowed me to know what the hell I was looking for in the refrigerator when I opened the daggone door to it.

 
Thursday, May 04, 2006

The Nancy

05/04/2006

Some people have asked me how I talked Nancy into posing for our version of the “American Gothic” photo?  Well, it took some doing, that’s for sure.  Some of you have not met my Nancy.  Please allow me to share a photo of the real Nancy with you, just so you know what she really looks like.  I kind of like her in this one, too. 

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I think she likes me, as well.  She has told others she keeps me around for grins and giggles and because I cook.  I am not so sure this is flattering. 

 
Monday, May 01, 2006

The Millennium3 Farm - An American Gothic

05/01/2006

Before you read this one do me a little favor?  Some changes were made to the website’s look.  In the upper left hand corner should be a photograph of our American Gothic.  If the tree drawing still shows up on your screen as you bring up this site, please update it?  You can do this by pressing the Ctrl key and the refesh icon on your tool bar (to the right of the back button/foward button - arrows, one green, the other gray) at the same time.  Your refresh button may be shown as two little green arrows wrapped around one another.  See ya!

In the little stories and vignettes I have posted here, I have attempted to allow you to get to know me and my innermost thoughts.  I have waxed philosophically, BS’d a good deal, and perhaps stretched the truth a time or two.  This is what being a blogger is all about, I suppose?  It is my website and my stories.  When my daughter and son-in-law gave this to me on my birthday I was truly excited at the possibility of having this toy/tool to play with.  It intimidated me for a brief moment; however, I soon realized it is a means to open up my heart to the world.  It allows me the opportunity to look nostalgically at my childhood and formative years.  I can revisit all the stupid shit I did as a teen, and I get to fess up to crap I pulled as an adult.  My opinions and thoughts mean little to the world and may not make a difference in the long scheme of things, but maybe I can evoke a memory for you or bring you a smile, or present an opportunity for a few of you to pick apart what I have said and call me an asshole.  Everyone in the world should be required to have one of these just so they can sit down, write crap and get to ruminate over and analyze what they have written.  If nothing else, they, as I, would get to expose their human foibles to the world and be penitent and contrite (some of us need to be more penitent than others).  Wow!  This is great.

The photograph below illustrates how I have assimilated to country life.  This was taken just off our porch and under a maple tree.  Nancy and I have talked about our American Gothic, our new home and its architecture, and the setting - three and a half acres of cleared land (lawn) surrounded by another 112 acres of rolling pastures and woods.  It is our little slice of heaven.

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Attitude plays a large part of being happy and contented.  The house we live in could use a lot of work.  We have done a considerable amount already and have a huge investment in what we have done so far.  Jokingly, and I emphasize the “jokingly,” I tell people all the problems and issues with the house will be solved by the fire.  All in all, it is a beautiful place both inside and out.  The work will get done in time. 

In the interim, I just get to be happy.  What more could I ask for?

 
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